


break the pattern forming between us

by natehsewell



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ava and Nate are platonic soulmates, Bisexual Female Character, Blood and Injury, Canon Bisexual Character, Death, Eventual Smut, F/F, Flashbacks, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Soulmates, The Ava du Mortain Reincarnation AU No One Asked For, Wayhaven's in New England for comedic purposes, Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natehsewell/pseuds/natehsewell
Summary: “Save her. Please.” Ava had begged, broken, pleading. A warrior who would not yield and would not kneel, on her knees for the life of the woman she loved.“What will you give?” The witch had asked, as unrelenting and changing as the tides. “What will you give for her life?”What else would she give but total surrender? What price would she not pay in full?“Anything.”
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. find a thread to pull

**Author's Note:**

> and here's the Ava du Mortain reincarnation AU no one asked for. this story's been bouncing around in my head for awhile now, and I've decided to just go for it and have fun with it. it'll be multichapter, although I'm not sure how many chapters yet. currently completely unbeta'd, so I'm sorry for any mistakes that I might have missed! hope you enjoy <3

She loved her first as Beatrice. 

There are many things Ava cannot remember from her human life. She cannot remember the way food and drink tasted when they were still meant for her. She cannot remember the sound of her father’s voice. She cannot remember so many of the faces of the people she had protected, and so many of the people she had lost. When she tries to conjure them, they slip from her grasp like sand between her fingers.

But she remembers her. She remembers her as if it were only yesterday. 

Her hair long and dark, her eyes even darker. A shade of brown that flared mahogany in the morning sun. Her wild smile. Her fierce anger, and even fiercer delight. The way she had taken Ava’s hand and beckoned her to follow, down, down into her whirlwind, the panging want of her. 

And Ava, so young, how could she refuse? How could anyone refuse a girl like that, with a fire in her so bright you could feel it under her skin? A girl who snarled as quick as she smiled and never quite stood still, never quite knew how? A girl who would throw herself in front of a stranger, who demanded justice and safety for everyone, everyone but herself? 

She remembers clearly, how Beatrice had kissed her beneath a waning sun—the sky a shade of pinks and golds that had illuminated them both in its soft light. 

How Beatrice had laughed, her face flushed with delight when she tucked it into Ava’s shoulder. Whatever she might have said, whatever jest Beatrice had made at her expense, it didn’t matter. Anything to see her smile like that. To hear her laugh like that.

The blast radius of Beatrice’s hair when Ava laid her out across a grassy field. “Almost as green as your eyes, Ser,” she had said once, when winter gave way to spring and warmth seeped into the air, and they could lay out in the fields for hours, hours, before anyone came looking. She had been so beautiful then, splayed out with the wildflowers, looking up at Ava with a love she could not contain, with a love Ava, even then, knew was far greater than anything she could ever hope to deserve.

But Ava remembers best the feeling of blood on her hands. 

Beatrice in her arms, choking back a wet, red sob.

The burning of her throat. 

A witch’s hard eyes.

“Save her. Please.” Ava had begged, broken, pleading. A warrior who would not yield and would not kneel, on her knees for the life of the woman she loved.

“What will you give?” The witch had asked, as unrelenting and changing as the tides. “What will you give for her life?”

What else would she give but total surrender? What price would she not pay in full?

“Anything.” 

Beatrice’s blood, staining her hands so red the stain would never come free. 

There was no price too great.

“Anything?”

Beatrice clinging to her, slipping away, her heartbeat slowing as her blood flowed free.

There was no price she would not pay.

“Anything.”

The witch had smiled then, a cruel thing bent like a wound. “You play with magics you don’t understand.” 

“Will they save her?” Ava had said; did she scream? Whisper? Cry? She could not say now, but she knows tears had run freely down her face. She knows she had begged.

The witch had watched her, eyes piercing and cold. Ava had known, on some primal level, to fear the magic that crackled in the air. But fear was nothing to anguish, nothing to rage, nothing to pain, and she had let it course through her veins as she held her lover closer. 

Finally, the witch had said: “You will see her again.”

And that was enough.

“Do it. Please. Whatever you must—”

“Wait a moment, vampire. I am not finished.” She had hummed, circling Ava like a vulture, waiting for their prey to give into a violent end.

“She will live, Ava du Mortain. You will find her. Again and again, you will find her.” 

Hope had swelled in her chest, like the twist of a knife.

“But you will always lose her.”

Ava had felt it, the moment her heart shattered in her chest. How Beatrice’s own heart had creeped slower and slower and slower, a war drum driving them both toward the end. 

But it was enough.

It was enough.

“Do it.”

And the deal was struck as Beatrice breathed her last.


	2. and we can watch it unravel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unit bravo arrives in wayhaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's chapter two! okay, so... most of the time, I struggle with retellings of canon. hard to write, hard to read for me. so this isn't going to be an exact side-by-side retelling of the game so much as... expanding on it, hopefully? and I might mess around with some of the events of the game. but I did want to set this story up hopefully right (?) .... so yeah! again, this is completely unbeta'd, so bear with me here. if there are any egregious mistakes, feel free to clown me for them so I can fix them. thanks for reading!! <3 <3 <3

**Winter, 1864**

A blizzard raged on outside, the howling of the wind not unlike the howling of wolves as it rattled the windows. The golden, crackling fireplace built up on logs of dead oak kept the bitterest of the chill from the room, though Nate had brought out heavy blankets should they need them. However long the blizzard lasted, the aftermath would undoubtedly leave them inside for days.

Ava found she didn’t mind such a thing. 

She was not, by nature, a woman of leisure. She had found in her many years that stagnation was a knife, one that could be turned on her by her own hand, and she avoided it at all costs.

Nate was different in that way. Still so young, he enjoyed the moments _in between,_ the moments in which he could indulge in the many different diversions humanity had to offer. It left him well-versed in all manner of topics and trades that Ava had never bothered with, though admired from a distance. She could appreciate the skill and dedication it must take to perfect a talent or an art, and she most certainly admired it where Nate was concerned. 

But she had lived enough lifetimes to no longer wish for moments of quiet ease. Inertia was the enemy. It was, she’d found, much better to remain in constant motion, to fill each second with a motivation of some kind; a task to be completed, a missive to pour over. Action over inaction. Movement over stillness. Keeping her mind occupied was the surest way to keep herself from a descent into madness.

And yet. 

On one knee, she balanced a book—one of Nate’s, old and bound in leather, well-worn and well-loved, with little notes of Nate’s scrawled in the margins—and in her lap, Adelaide (who was once Eleyne who was once Magdalena who was once Beatrice) rested her head, her hair near black in the dim firelight. Ava ran her fingers through it in slow, careful strokes, mindful to not tug or pull on any of the strands, and Adelaide lulled into that space between wakefulness and sleep. 

Ava listened to the slow, steady drum of her heart, and her own eyes fell shut. Quiet. Peaceful.

Opened them to find Nate smiling gently at them both over his own book. 

She couldn’t find it in herself to be irritated by the knowing glint twinkling in his eyes. She had never been more content.

Over the centuries, she had sworn over and over she would not do this. She had resolved her heart, as if will alone could keep her from walking this same path like a groove in the earth. Whatever magic that bound them together would be broken, surely, if only she could stay away. 

After Magdalena, she had sworn. After Eleyne, she had sworn. To play her role, say her lines, repeat this cycle would only doom them both, and she would not do that to her. Not again. Not ever. Whatever pain, whatever sacrifices there were to be made, Ava would be at peace so long as they were hers alone.

But the threads of magic binding them were tight, like a noose around her throat.

One touch of Adelaide’s hand, and she had been unraveled. Undone. 

Adelaide stirred in her lap, and Ava’s fingers fell to her shoulder, keeping her near. Her doe eyes fluttered, and when their gazes met, Adelaide grinned sleepily, nuzzling her cheek to the width of her thigh.

Ava’s heart clenched in her chest.

She would leave. She would leave soon. She would return Adelaide to her own life, when she was sure it was safe, and she would make Nate understand. She would tell him, and he would understand, even if he loved her too, in his own way (and how could he not?)

But for now… what agony. What bliss.

* * *

**Wayhaven, present day.**

Ava hates New England. 

In particular, she hates Vermont. And while she has little regard for fate or destiny or the mysterious workings of the universe, it seems rather like someone is playing a joke at her expense, when their target appears in a little town in the last place she would like to be. Tearing apart an entire team in the process.

The last time she had come through this area, she had been with just Nate. Some humans had worked themselves into a frenzy, believing vampires were the cause behind their mounting dead. 

To give them only a modicum of credit, at one point there had been a vampire, and he had enjoyed the freedom of draining humans under the cover of consumption, but the hysteria was largely uncalled for. And incredibly unpleasant to witness.

She can still remember the surety of some fool, explaining to her the ritual of burning a ‘vampire’s’ heart, to end the cycle of them crawling from their grave to feed upon their living relatives.

_Idiots._

Ava’s lip curls, and she takes the next turn rather hard. The Agency issued SUV rocks in protest.

“Ohhh, what’s wrong, fearless leader?” Farah chirps, wrapping an arm around the headrest of Ava’s chair and leaning forward until Ava can see her out of the corner of her eye. She had been banished to the back after flipping through radio stations with such speed Morgan had threatened bodily harm. 

And then gone on to ask _are we there yet?_ repeatedly until Morgan had nearly lunged across the car. Now Morgan’s in the front, where at least Ava can shove her back into her chair if need be. “Thought you’d be happy to hear that we’re back on the case!” 

In the backseat, Nate sighs. “It’s... unfortunate what happened to Unit Foxtrot. And to the victims. I hope we can put a stop to this once and for all.”

“For sure.” Farah nods. “Least we know where he is though, right?” She pauses, and then adds with some hesitation, “...uhhh, where is that, again?”

Ava bites back a long-suffering sigh. Morgan rolls her eyes. The faux-leather steering wheel groans under her grip.

“It’s a small town. Wayhaven.” Nate says. “We should be there shortly. After that, it’s just a matter of tracking him down.”

“How small?”

“No more than a thousand people.”

Farah flops back into her seat with a thump, whistling low. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find him, right? Not many places to hide.”

“Wouldn’t say that. He probably covered his tracks.” Morgan pipes up, flicking her lighter open and closed. Nate’s enforced the no cigarettes in the car rule so far, and her expression’s harsher than usual. “Like he did in Alaska.”

“And Denmark.” Farah says. “And Kent.” 

“Well, no unit’s never caught up with him this quickly before. Let’s hope we can catch him by surprise.” Nate adds, careful optimism in his voice. Ava catches his eyes in the rear-view mirror, and she notes the strain in his smile. He isn’t as sure of that as he’d like to seem, and they both know it.

The location is both inconvenient and convenient, all at once. Small towns have their advantages, their disadvantages, like all places do. It’s simply a matter of understanding how to go about it. The hunting ground is smaller, which is good, but their mobility is limited as well. It’s far easier to cover up a strange incident in a large city than it is a smaller town, where everyone knows everything. 

If their vampire really is still in the area, despite having an entire team already sent after him, and he very well could be, then a few things are true. 

He’s set up nearby, and he’ll be reluctant to simply abandon whatever makeshift home he’s established. 

He’s gotten cocky, or perhaps desperate. Ava wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a mixture of both. 

He is running out of victims, and he knows it. If they don’t put a stop to this soon, then there’s no telling what he might do next. He could disappear, or he could lash out, and leave more destruction in his wake.

Either way, failure is not an option.

* * *

They reach Wayhaven mid-morning, and meet in an empty office building.

Whether the building itself is actually abandoned, or simply cleared out by the Agency before their arrival, Ava can’t say. It isn’t really her concern. Only that it’s somewhat safe, out of the way, and secure enough that they can meet here again without the risk of running into a bumbling human. 

Agent Blackwood is already there when they arrive, standing beside a desk coated with a thin layer of dust. No pleasantries, though she gives them a slight nod in greeting. There are a few chairs scattered about the room, and a few more desks. Unit Bravo spreads out to their preferred places as their handler takes center stage. Ava at the window, Morgan in the corner, Farah sprawled across a chair, and Nate sitting politely, legs crossed.

She’s clutching a manilla folder, and there’s a hard groove on her nose as she frowns. Not exactly out of the ordinary, though something about it seems different than her usual intensity. Maybe it’s the closeness to their target. Maybe it’s frustration at the loss of Unit Foxtrot. 

Agent Blackwood inhales, sharp and deep, and exhales just the same. “There are a few things you should know.” 

Everyone in the room stiffens up, all eyes on her. 

“He’s killed again.” And she throws the file onto the table. Several photos; first, the mangled bodies of Unit Foxtrot, throats torn out and blood splattered across concrete, their expressions frozen in horror. Ava’s already seen them, and looks over the gory mess without flinching. Next, a few photos of, presumably, a dead human girl. These ones, Ava hasn’t seen, and she steps forward to pick one of them up.

Body pale, arms splayed out and eyes wide. A thin line of bruises on her wrists, and likely around her ankles as well, if she was treated anything like his last victims. The morning sun blisters on the ground beneath her, bathing her in a cold, white light.

“Did she have the blood mutation?” Ava asks, ignoring Farah’s uncomfortable shift and Nate’s furrowed brow. They stay where they are, but Morgan comes up beside her. Ava hands her the photo wordlessly.

“That’s what we’re led to believe.” 

“How recent was this?” 

“The body was discovered this morning.”

Ava nods, turning her attention back to the photo in Morgan’s hand. Good. Then he likely hasn’t moved on yet. The carelessness of the body’s disposal surprises her, however. He must know the Agency is on his trail; why alert them further by being so sloppy with his latest victim? 

Cocky indeed. Or truly desperate. 

“Then we should set out immediately.” Ava straightens up, meeting Agent Blackwood’s dark gaze. “Do we have any idea where his last location might have been?”

Agent Blackwood turns away back toward the desk, and picks up a laminated sheet. Ava notes the tiny text and flat blues and greens. A map. 

“There are only a few places in Wayhaven he could have gone and not gotten caught.” She spreads the map out on the table. Nate stands up to look over it. Farah stays seated, although she perks up a bit. “I suggest looking into the old warehouses on the outskirts of town.” She says, pointing to a cluster of buildings a little ways away from the main town.

“Very well. We’ll start there.” Ava shoots Farah a sharp look, and she groans as she rolls to her feet.

Agent Blackwood gives a jerk of her head in acknowledgement. “Stay alert and out of sight. Meet me here later tonight.” 

And Unit Bravo’s gone, on the hunt again.

* * *

They find footprints near the warehouses. Which is only relevant when Morgan stops, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. She kneels, runs her fingers over the bootprint at her feet, smudging it a little. 

“Yeah, he was definitely here.” She says, standing back up. Wiping the mud off on her jeans, she turns to face them all. “His scent’s all over the place. Recent enough. Probably came through in the last day or so. Bet he’s staying in one of those.” A jut of her chin toward the cluster of old, broken-down buildings

“What’s the likelihood that he’ll come back?” Nate asks, tilting his head to the side. The quickly fading sunlight hits his eyes at just the right angle to turn the dark brown a shade of deep russet. 

Morgan shrugs. “If he doesn’t know we’re here? Wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”

“So… we’re staying?” Farah grimaces, pointing at one of the dilapidated buildings. “Here?”

Ava ignores the comment. Wet, muddy leaves from last fall squelch underneath her boot as she steps forward. “We spread out, cover the area, and wait till nightfall. If he returns, we herd him toward one of the warehouses. It will be easier to corner him there.”

“Okay. And if he doesn’t show up?” Farah asks, tilting her head to the side. The wind picks up, rustling the bare branches and sending a flush of cold air past them all. Morgan shivers and lights up another cigarette, clenching her chattering teeth. Nate stuffs his hands in his jacket and looks to her.

A likely possibility, but one that is less than ideal. They have two options: search the town secretly, and hope to not get caught by any of the locals, or openly work, and potentially tip off their target. 

The first is irritating, but not impossible. Avoiding the townspeople will be difficult, and they’ll be limited to searching only at night for the most part. It will also limit their range of mobility. But, there’s less risk. The chance of the vampire hearing about them, or spotting them off-guard, is slim-to-none (never absolute, of course.)

The second gives them greater range of motion. Working out in the open allows them to go, for the most part, where they please, and the worst they will have to deal with are suspicious side-eyes and overly curious humans. But a group of four strange newcomers in a town like Wayhaven won’t go unaddressed or unobserved. Not knowing where the vampire is, if he’s embedded himself at all in the community, makes that risky.

She can decide what to do after tonight. For now, focusing on the task at hand.

Ava sighs. “Then we begin to search the town. ”

They circle back around to the SUV to retrieve their radios and hammer out a plan. 

The sun will go down soon. Once it does, they’ll fan out. Nate south, Farah west, Morgan east, and Ava to the north. They’ll cover about a mile radius of the area, hopefully enough room to keep themselves concealed from the vampire, but close enough that one of them should catch him, should he return. Chase him into a corner, capture him, and cart him back to the Agency where he can be properly locked up for his multitude of crimes. 

Though she doubts it will be as simple as that.

* * *

The full moon crests overhead, bathing the forest in smooth, silver shafts of light. There are no street lamps this far out of town, leaving the twinkling stars in full bloom above them, the sky undiminished by artificial light. But even without it, Ava can see the cut and line of the forest around her clearly. 

The world of today typically demands they dampen their senses down, if only to stay sane amidst all the noise and bustle of a world far more fast-paced than the one Ava inhabited even a century ago. But now, she lets each sense flood through her, and the world spreads out in a cacophony of noise and color. 

Night drenches the area in shades of blackish green and midnight blue. Trees arch over her like looming skeletons, their branches bare save for only the occasional bud of new growth. Evergreen and decay smarts on the air, that strange combination of life and death Ava has grown to associate with winter. Small creatures skitter to and fro, wary of her and keeping their distance. Wind whistles and hums, carrying leaves with it. 

Branches crunch a ways off, and Ava twists around faster than a blink, her guard instantly raised, tensing for the warning, the teeth, the chase.

But it’s not a threat. It’s a doe, frozen in its path. At this distance, she can hear the sudden jump of the animal’s heart, racing in its chest as that primal instinct to _run_ takes hold. Even as it stares and waits. Waits for Ava to make her move, to prove herself a threat.

Ava stays perfectly still. And slowly, keeping its eyes on her all the way, the deer turns and walks away, stepping gracefully over a fallen tree before eventually melting into the shadows.

She slumps over and sighs, rubbing her hand over her forehead.

They’d agreed on radio silence unless absolutely necessary. Any stray noise, any wrong step, could tip off the vampire to their presence, and idle chatter would be the death of them all. 

She thinks of Farah, no doubt pacing and fidgeting in her place, and bites back a groan. Nate and Morgan she’s sure of. Farah…

“Wait a minute—” _Speak of the devil._ Farah’s voice crackles on the radio, thankfully low and strained with tension. “I think I saw something.”

Ava waits, keeping her silence. Listens. Readies herself to run, hands clenching at her sides. Of all of them, it would be Farah who spotted the vampire. Farah, the farthest one from her. Worry snaps her spine straight.

“Never mind. Just a squirrel. Aww… two squirrels. They’re holding hands!”

_Of course._

Ava groans, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. That girl… when this is over, they’ll have a long conversation about what _radio silence_ on a mission means. 

“Get off the radio.” Morgan snaps.

“Fine. Jeez.” 

Silence—or a kind of silence, lacking people but alive with the hum of nature—stretches out before her once again. Ava isn’t lulled by the peace, taking small paces in her designated area. On some level, she can see why it would be considered peaceful. Can even understand why some might call this town, this area, beautiful, in its own way. She’s never felt any particular draw to nature, but even she can’t deny the stillness draws a melancholy kind of loveliness to the surrounding area. 

And like all peaceful things, it shatters quite spectacularly. 

“Target spotted.” Morgan snarls. “I’m pursuing him. Bastard.” The sound of running wrenches across the line, then suddenly cuts dead.

“Nate, after them.” Ava snaps into the radio, her voice raising to a sharp bark, and bursts into action. She crosses the span of the forest at a pace no human eye could follow. It will be only seconds before she reaches them, but centuries of experience have taught her that seconds are the difference between life and death.

She counts them in slow motion. 

One. The silhouette of Morgan and Nate come into view, blurring across an empty field. A third figure, all lanky limbs and sharp edges, flees from their pursuit. 

Two. Farah follows up on rear, caging their vampire in. He looks between them all, akin to a cornered animal, and realizes there is only one way left to go. Inside. 

Three. He flies into the warehouse, and they chase, metal doors clanging behind them. She barely registers the thick scent of rot and mold as she inhales, even when it thickens on her throat, clings to her lungs. There isn’t time to focus on anything besides the thundering beacon of his heartbeat drawing them further and further into this festering wound of a place. 

In an instant, Ava notes the windows—each an exit, should he find a way around them. She notes the corners and the doors and the way he’s leading them further _in_ and up, instead of out. Whatever his play is, she gives no pause, no inch to breathe, lets him cede no ground. Four to one, the odds are stacked against him. 

They corner him in one of the upper rooms, windows boarded up and blacked out, walls graffitied and peeling. He looks around frantically, as if a doorway will appear before him and see him through to the other side of this encounter. Like there is any version of this that does not end with him in chains.

Morgan and Farah spread to either side of her, covering the corners. Nate stands at her side, his face drawn into a hard frown, his body bent slightly, braced for impact.

Her focus zeroes in on the man, finally. He appears old, older than most other vampires, though she knows that means nothing. Grey streaks at his temple, and his eyes crinkle cruelly at the edges as his lips twist into an ugly sneer.

She snarls, and he laughs, a violent garrote of a sound. 

Nate steps forward, too fast for her to push him back, back into a kind of safety behind her. “We’re with the Agency and you are— _ah!”_ In a blur of motion, Nate’s body slams into a nearby wall with a sickening crack. Concrete crumbles around him as he slumps to the ground. Farah shouts something, Morgan lunges forward, as if she could stop what’s already happened.

A vicious anger bursts across Ava’s chest, taking her breath away as her vision washes over in shades too bright to bear. But in the second she looks over at Nate, keeled over still, the vampire disappears, ghosting in the hall. Her senses trace his path.

“Help him!” She barks, not waiting to see if Morgan and Farah acknowledge the order, and chases after the vampire. He’s fast, far faster than she anticipated, and stronger too. She won’t make the mistake of underestimating him again. 

The rush of a fight takes over, and Ava doesn’t think, allowing her body to go through the motions it knows so well.

He’s still, a lean black shape, looming over another person—human. Female. And that’s all she can register because there isn’t time, there isn’t space for cautiousness. If she stops now, they lose him, and he escapes to kill again. Maybe not here. Maybe not now. But eventually. 

One witness. The Agency will be able to handle it. 

In the span of a heartbeat, Ava closes the distance between them, and slams her body into his, sending them both careening to the ground.

He snaps and growls beneath her, then above her, a vicious tangle of limbs and violence as they land somewhere behind a car. His teeth brush her throat, and Ava dodges out of the way, digs her fingers into his shirt. Lifts and _slams_ him into the hood of the car. The impact radiates from his body through her arms, heavy and satisfying.

She bares her teeth, pressing all her weight down onto him. A guttural snarl tears past her lips as his bones grind under her crushing grip. 

Mission accomplished.

And then—

 _“Adelaide?”_ Nate’s voice breaks, a grieving, sudden sound. And that name— that _name_ . He hasn’t said it in years. Neither of them have. Not when it burns down their throat like fire. Adelaide. _Adelaide, is that you?_ She thinks she hears him say. And every honed instinct, gone in an instant. She gasps, snapping up. 

No. _No—_

Pain shatters across her jaw, the taste of her own blood coating her tongue. Ava stumbles back, losing her grip on the vampire as she struggles to stay on her feet.

_Not now._

Pain. Blood in her mouth. She can’t look at her. At the human. Fear sluices through her veins, terrible and cold and hard, and she can’t stop now. They have a mission. It isn’t her. Don’t look. The mission.

The vampire snatches his chance at freedom, taking off in a haze of sharp edges. Gone. 

There’s still time. There’s still time.

“Don’t let him go!” She snarls, body tensing, preparing to take off in another run. 

Don’t look.

_“No one fucking move!”_

And every god she’s never believed in save her. She looks.

And all the world stops dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading <3 hmu on tumblr @nataliehsewell to cry about one Ava du Mortain.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 hmu on tumblr @dumortainava to cry about one Ava du Mortain.


End file.
